My boys love it when I decorate for Halloween. As far as they are concerned the creepier the better. The only problem with that is, we live in the Bible Belt. If I do anything other than cutesie people think we worship satan. Still. I love my guys and I love decorating for Halloween. I did try to balance cutesie with scary this year and the guys hate it. What’s a Mom to do?
Lit majors are not allowed to comment on the grammar in my title. “I’m afraid of sentences ending in prepositions.” Yes, aren’t we all. I went with it because it sounded far less snooty than “Of what are you most afraid?”
We’ve all been chatting lately on things that go bump in the night. Things that scare us whether it be movies, clowns, zombies, spiders or snakes and I thought I’d bring the conversation to you guys.
Three things I’m most afraid of?
1. Spiders
2. Driving over bridges.
3. Accidentally moving next door to my gynecologist.
My boys greatest fear, life without bacon.
What’s yours?
I jokingly tell people “It’s always about me and the sooner we all get on the same page with that the better.” I’ve had a really crummy week y’all. Every inner voice imaginable has struggled to be heard, acknowledged, and at times smacked down.
I’d complain really, but the truth is none of the events of this week are really about me.
Not everything that happens in the crazy mixed up planet of ours is about us. My first homework assignment for the group was to assess a poem by Mary Oliver called The Journey. What I discovered was not just one voice, but many. I had four days to read the poem and process my thoughts. A day makes all the difference. While processing this poem I met my ingenue, my wounded child, my victim and a new voice who is still trying to tie it all together before midnight tonight.
Wish me luck.
“Let’s face it, I’m at that age where the only way I can lose weight is to either cut my hair or shave my legs.” — Deana O’Hara
If you are looking for a what not to say to an audience of mostly men, I can give you a list.
There are three things men cannot easily recover from.
Sex.
Childbirth.
Hormones.
The rules for this particular night were simple, keep it PG. I played by the rules and stumbled upon an unwritten understanding that women shall not tell the truth in front of men. Out of 7 comic only 2 of us were female and neither of us made the finals.
There is a difference between killing on stage and dying.
I died Saturday and I’m okay with that.
My set isn’t for men, it’s for women. The judges were male and they did not like me.
While a more experienced speaker will look at their audience and adjust accordingly, I chose to stay the course and be myself. Was that the right call? Not if I wanted to win. Fortunately, I didn’t go there to win a contest. I went there to defeat fear. In staying the course I beat the voice in my head that insists that if I continue being myself, I’ll be alone. Misplaced safety nets are detrimental to my well-being.
Just as a child cannot receive self-esteem by being given A’s for effort alone, neither can I. Confidence comes only as an after effect of facing down my fears and doing the unthinkable.
Being fully me sometimes comes with a price, like losing a contest. And yet the joy my inner woman shows every time I allow her to be heard is priceless.
I owe my career to Mr Jobs. It was his innovations that allowed me to work as a Sigma 7 Analyst for Motorola back in 1991. That job begat others. I often think that Apple really started it all – everyone else just copied what they did.
A friend of mine found Mr Job’s Commencement Speech to the 2005 graduating class of Stanford University. In it, he tells three stories from his life. Just three stories. Connecting the dots, Love and Loss, and Life and Death. Three stories with very profound messages. The video is only 15 minutes long and totally worth watching.
“Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven’t found it yet, keep looking. Don’t settle. As with all matters of the heart, you’ll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don’t settle.” ~ Steve Jobs
Waking up to stomach pains that rivaled my labor pains all those years ago is not pleasant. Spending the night in the emergency room hoping the pain would go away is not how I wanted to start this month. They checked me for everything under the sun, Hepatitis, Kidney Stones, Blockages, Cardiac Enzymes, Appendicitis and more I’m sure. In the end, they came up rather empty, gave me morphine and sent me home. The best they could tell me was I had some inflamed diverticuli and to call my primary care doctor.
They were so sure I was “fine” the nurses let me unhook myself from the heart monitor before kicking me to the curb. I do have to laugh at that.
This is why I’ve been silent. I’m just not feeling well. And I’m afraid to eat.
I’m okay mind you. At least in the I’m not going to die anytime soon meaning of “ok.” I’m just annoyed really that my body is revolting like this.
While living on non seed bearing anything, low acid fruit, Greek yogurt, goat milk and purple potatoes for the past few days, I’m researching the snot out of my symptoms hoping to find some answers.
I’m also preparing for a show this Saturday. I’m performing in a comedy review in Yukon Oklahoma with five other comics on October 8. I’m nervous and excited all at once.
I’ve been refining my set of stories and jokes for a couple of years now and I really like this particular set. It’s tried out, edited, retried, and edited some more. I cannot count the hours it takes just to perfect 10 minutes. It’s crazy fun though. If I pass the first round, I get to perform 15 minutes in round 2. All of it is clean (PG) comedy. No swearing. No Sex. No Drugs. And most importantly, it’s funny! I like it.
Of course that means I have to leave my gynecologist jokes at the door. Bummer. Those work in clubs and other open mic nights, but not for a family crowd. “Vagina” it seems, is not a family friendly term. The fact that I can say it aloud without blushing like crazy took HOURS of practice. Of course getting my husband to say that word out loud — fuggetaboutit. I’m amazed we had children.
I’ll be back next week y’all. I promise.
This particular video has gone viral on Facebook. It took me a while to find the original and share it with you guys. The show is called Mrs Brown’s Boys and I personally think it’s hilarious, albeit a bit crude. I laughed so hard, I cried.
I discovered BBC Television when I lived in Sweden back in 1981 and love it to death.
If you are easily offended, I suggest you don’t watch, but otherwise enjoy.
Deana O'Hara - Speaker, Comedian, Writer 